Tuesday, July 11, 2006

We've sent out emails, put out advertisments, wrangled sponsorships, pasted the damn postcards all over manhattan, yet we still have two more nights with no ticket sales. If a play is performed without an audience, does it make a sound?

Simply put, people don't want to see plays, unless they are overproduced, visually spectacular pieces of eye-candy. That is not Remuda. Remuda is just three actors putting a spin on the old girl/boy story, the old brothers story, the old story of the old west. It's funny, its sad, its intimate. I can't sell that, I don't know how to sell that. No one wants to pay $18 for intimacy.

Frustrated with the game, with the free listings editors that won't return my emails, with the potential sponsors that won't return my calls, with my friends and family who have already seen every damn thing I've done and don't owe many any favors. I've burned my bridges.

My nightmare is sitting alone in the theatre every night. My show, my show that I paid for, that I bullied into existence. It was never meant to be MY show. I'm serious.

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